


Our Empire

by BreePosens



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Forbidden Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9256319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreePosens/pseuds/BreePosens
Summary: There’s something intriguing in the way ‘Mitchell’ moves across the room, drink in hand, chatting up every woman she comes to. Though there’s something even more intriguing in the way Beca looks into Chloe’s eyes across the room, how they catch glances. And forbidden love is always the best kind.





	1. A Whole New World

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Welcome to chapter one of my latest brain child. Link to ao3 and ff.net can be found on the masterlist, [here](https://breeposens.tumblr.com/ou)

 

There are areas of the world where people hold the same, to the t, morning routine dear. It’s an unspoken agenda passed telepathically and through contracts- signed upon the dotted line. _‘If you want to keep this job, you need to do a, b and c by x time’_ it’ll say, bonding the proletariat to the bourgeoisie’s grasp. Everyone in New York City seems to abide to the same early start and late finish, Chloe’s discovered, despite being in a tired haze since her arrival a month ago. Even as she bashes her hand against the alarm clock beside her bed, she knows it’s _way_ too early for anyone to seriously contemplate leaving bed- and that’s coming from a morning person. But, much like New York’s 8 million other inhabitants, she has a job to go to.

Checking her appearance in the mirror, Chloe smiles to herself. Her pick blouse, freshly ironed, falls perfectly on her frame, and matched with a black pencil skirt, she feels ready to walk into a highly respected fashion house. And even if being an assistant at Millennia isn’t the most glamourous job in the world, it’s a start (and she knows how to do it correctly, which helps).

Her rush to the subway isn’t glamorous either. The jacket which keeps her warm on the streets is too hot down in the pit of bodies, and the stench of bodily fluids from the partiers of Sunday night infiltrates her nose with its putrid stink. As she wrestles her way into a seat, she has to take a moment to relax and _breathe_ , because she can only bet that her day will get worse than it already is.

Eventually, Chloe closes the issue of _Marie Claire_ which sits open in her lap. The message from the editor includes a less than subtle endorsement of Hillary Clinton, and she swears that magazines like those are meant to be impartial. Though, she isn’t entirely sure about anything anymore- her life has kind of been turned upside down, plus she has the journey to Millennia’s offices to go yet.

Getting out of the subway isn’t quite as bad as finding an initial seat, but her feet are really beginning to hurt as they’re being squashed into the nicest shoes Chloe owns. They’re gorgeous, but uncomfortable- note to self she supposes. As she walks into the building which houses Millennia’s offices, she wanders towards the elevator and tries desperately to remember what floor she’s going to. Her worries are stopped in their tracks, however, when she notices the distinctive logo beside the backlit number twenty-one.

The atmosphere of the office is such a juxtaposition to anything Chloe's experienced before. So as she walks up to the front desk and addresses the thin woman behind it, she finds herself falling into a sense of awkwardness.

"Hi." Chloe can feel her contagious smile spreading widely over her face, and she doesn't think to stop it. "I'm the new assistant, and the email told me to come here first..."

"Chloe Beale?" Chloe's attention is pulled away from the receptionist, and instead to a woman standing in the middle of a nearby corridor. All Chloe can do is nod somewhat dumbly before the other woman beckons her over. "I'm Ashley, your tour guide and tutor for this morning, otherwise you’ll find me in design." She introduces as they begin their journey deeper into Millennia.

The corridors between the reception and the desk Ashley stops at are small and filled with bodies wandering around with various books, fabrics, and paperwork. It’s a similar hustle and bustle to the rest of the city, though more civilised and without the potent smell of coffee.

“This is your desk,” Ashley continues, “computer, notebook, and calendar- anything you could need. Your work phone is just being sorted out by corporate.” Chloe runs her finger over the notebook, embellished with Millennia’s logo. It all feels so fancy, the opposite of the workplace her college professor had claimed they’d end up in. “You also need to sign some paperwork: non-disclosure, salary, and the usual. Plus, you need to sign your housing agreement, then you’re set to go.”

Chloe looks at the ominous document, flicking through the pages which are marked with Post-Its. When she checks that there isn’t anything that immediately screams that she’s being scammed, she signs on the dotted lines scattered about.

“I’ll email you a copy, don’t worry.” Ashley’s smile is contagious, and Chloe too smiles as she passes the paperwork back. “Welcome to Millennia, Chloe, now the craziness begins.”

Chloe listens silently as Ashley explains about the work phone she’ll gain, and how it’s the way most of them contact one another- for work reasons or for being picked up late at night. The design department likes to party, apparently, and thankfully Chloe does too, because they’d be dragging her along when she has the chance.

“We occupy the 19th to 21st floors, and I can probably give you a quick tour- your resume says you’ve been an assistant before, so you can probably handle that side of things.” Ashley mumbles the last section of her speech to herself, walking off to a staircase, Chloe following on her heel (the pain in her feet getting worse by the second).

Chloe nods along, “is there anything I really shouldn’t do?”

“Jesse and Stacie will become more like friends than bosses if you have a decent personality, so don’t do anything you wouldn’t do to a regular boss- be aware of Stacie’s fiancé though.” Ashley recommends, “When you move in, you’ll bond with everyone on the design team plus Emily, she’s basically our little sister.”

The rest of the tour is completed on a similar note: the design area is messy and loud, with music pumping out of a speaker system on the walls; PR and marketing is professional and well-organised, with photographs gracing the walls; and corporate is, well, corporate. It’s a clash of different cultures, parts of the machine so different they work together, and Chloe would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to begin.

* * *

"I need you to go with Jessica, she’s supposed to be pitching to _Marie Claire_ this afternoon on Stacie’s behalf- just make sure no one dies."

It was meant to be a joke, Chloe realises now, as all excitement dissipates from her body. Jesse was supposed to be joking about the fact that people could die, and yet Chloe feels like the scope of a sniper is directed straight at her as she sits in the lobby of _Marie Claire_ beside a nervous Jessica.

“This is Stacie’s test.” Jessica’s been speaking incessantly since a nice girl called Rose let them know that _Marie Claire’s_ editor in chief was running slightly late. “If I can pass this, I get a sub label. A sub label at 27, Chloe. That’s insane!”

All Chloe can do is nod and smile in agreement. Ashley wasn’t joking about Jesse throwing her into the deep end, and Jessica appears to be drowning. Quickly.

“Just take a deep breath,” Chloe says. She’s trying to be the reassuring colleague, but with Jessica’s impending meltdown looming, she’s letting herself fall into a mild panic. “In and out, in and—”

“Jessica she’s ready for you.” When Jessica stands up on shaky legs and slowly makes her way over to the blonde Brit standing in the entrance to a long corridor, Rose offers more encouragement, “You’ve got this, I promise.” Chloe follows dutifully behind, offering words of encourage each time they get decidedly closer to their final destination.

Eventually, Rose pulls a glass door open.

Jessica apprehensively passes through the glass Rose is holding open, eyes stuck on the blonde woman seated behind a matching glass desk. Chloe stays two steps behind her, eyes trying to find Jesse in the midst of the room. He's not there to save them. Instead, calming flipping through what appears to be a draft copy of next month’s _Marie Claire_ is fashion’s ice queen. Aubrey Posen.

Chloe notices that Jessica’s stopped, and she too promptly comes to a halt a few metres away from the desk (and Jessica’s ‘test’).

“Don’t you have anything to set up?” Her tone is icy, syllables sharp enough to slice a young designer’s hopes in two. Aubrey’s eyes don’t even leave the draft in front of her, and Chloe swallows at the definitive power gap between all three of them. “I haven’t got all day.”

Chloe gently runs her fingers over Jessica’s shoulder blade, instilling confidence in an otherwise frightened woman, “It’s evening wear, and I’ve seen the designs, you can do this,” Chloe whispers. Jessica nods in response, swallowing and letting her bag fall from her shoulder. “Grab that wardrobe rack and believe in yourself.” Chloe punctuates her sentence with a wink, igniting a fire within Jessica’s gut.

Chloe shuffles her feet as Jessica gets the various aspects of her presentation ready: sketchbooks of designs in various states, gowns- both finished and in-progress- which hang elegantly from a rail, and a mood board of colour and jewel tones. Eventually, the redhead settles on the edge of the couch which sits in the corner of the office, eyes taking in Jessica’s creations. They’re each crafted impeccably, stitches curling together in order to keep their bonds tight.

Just as Jessica’s running through her notes beside her dresses, Chloe watches out the corner of her eye as Aubrey sits down at the opposite end of the couch, crossing one leg over another and reaching out for a notebook and pen which are sitting on the coffee table positioned in front of them.

As soon as Chloe watches the fashion heavyweight lift her wrist up to check the time on her watch, she clears her throat. Jessica turns around immediately at the noise, shutting her notebook and flattening out the crinkles in her dress. “I don’t want to waste your time, Ms. Posen,” she begins to ramble, “I’ll just show you what I have…”

“That _is_ why we’re here.” Aubrey mutters, taking the cap off her pen and scribbling the date at the top of a new page- graceful cursive tattooing the porcelain paper. “Stacie said you have fresh ideas, yet I can’t see any right now.”

Jessica reaches for one of the garments on the rack, pulling it off and holding it from the bodice. “I’ve brought some pieces of embroidery for you to touch, if you want, in order to get up close to my work?”

“Don’t question yourself, it makes you come across like you have no faith in your so-called talent.”

Chloe offers two thumbs up to her colleague. Jesse had said that no one should die, but he hadn’t explicitly said how cold Aubrey was. Yes, _Marie Claire’s_ editor in chief was known for being a cold-hearted bitch (and even a cunt on a few occasions) - a fact never hidden during her Project Runway appearances- though Chloe hadn’t envisioned herself sliding closer to the arm of the couch with every passing second.

Before Jessica has the chance to respond, the door to the office opens, and a brunette strolls in with a coffee in hand. “You’re so fucking picky, the barista had to try twice-” The new arrival’s words trail off as her eyes move from Jessica to Chloe, “and I didn’t know you had a meeting…” She places the takeout coffee cup down on the coffee table, eyes moving to the rack of dresses. “What are _those_?”

“Gowns, Mitchell,” Aubrey replies, raising an eyebrow at her step-sister, “do you like them?”

Chloe exchanges a moment’s gaze with Jessica, whose eyes scream with horror at the thought of a random brunette in ripped jeans, a baseball tee, and a pair of headphones around her neck weighing in on couture. Jessica remains rooted to the spot as ‘Mitchell’ flips through a glossy sketchbook filled with swatches and completed designs. None of the tension leaves the designer’s body, especially as the small woman reaches out to one of her gowns and runs the embroidery through her fingers.

“They’re pretty, I suppose,” comes the final opinion, “it’s the kind of thing Junkle would want for senior prom.” She adjusts her laptop bag on her shoulder, eyes finding Chloe for a brief second before they refocus on Aubrey, “I need to get back to work, I hope I was of service.” The orbs of ocean blue fall back to Chloe’s face, and Mitchell swallows. “I’ll see you for dinner Bree.”

As quickly as she appeared, she’s gone, and Chloe wrings her fingers whilst Jessica stands dumbfounded. The designer is about to open her mouth to question why the editor in chief of a magazine would be asking an alt-girl about fashion when Aubrey closes her notebook.

“How soon can you get four gowns done?” She asks as she stands up, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles out of her navy dress before crossing back over the office to her desk, coffee in hand.

Jessica’s mouth opens and closes twice, “I’m sorry, did you say _four_?” Her eyes dart over to Chloe, whose smile stretches across her face. Aubrey nods in response, placing the Starbucks cup upon the glass. “To-um meet the _Marie Claire_ standard I’d need at least four weeks per dress- plus tailoring, I-”

“Just give me a number, _quickly_.”

“Three months.” Jessica responds, worrying about the repercussions of her time constraints is an issue for later.

“Great.” Aubrey sits down, “I’ll email Jesse and work out the logistics, just email me your fifteen best designs and I’ll pick four I want.” She goes back to her previous task, “this meeting’s finished now.”

Chloe leaps up, just as Jessica starts to speak, “thank you so much for your time, Ms. Posen, I won’t let you down.” Aubrey waves her hand dismissively, phone already raised to her ear.

As they stand together in the elevator, Chloe looks at Jessica (who’s only just begun breathing again), “I told you that you could do it.” She pulls the designer in for a hug, offering support which can evidently be lacking in the industry. “Four gowns- that’s amazing.”

Jessica nods as she rests her head on Chloe’s shoulder, “thank you so much for coming with me Chloe, we’re gonna _love_ having you around.”

* * *

“This way.” Jessica continues leading the way through the numerous corridors of the apartment complex she has led Chloe to.

Chloe’s first day at work hadn’t been all that bad: Jesse had left early to go to dinner with his friends, and Jessica had consequently grabbed Chloe as soon as he was out of sight so she could help Chloe get settled into the apartment. Because living with five other people she has never met before _really_ appeals right now.

They pause outside a door, and Chloe watches Jessica fumble in her bag for what appears to be a key, which the more seasoned employee twists in the keyhole, the door swinging open for them. And then they’re face to face with a shorter woman, who’s in the middle of drinking from a mug of coffee.

“Oh, it’s you.” The other woman begins, “I thought the mafia was here to find me.”

Her comment about the mafia doesn’t appear to phase Jessica, who calmly steps over the boundary. “Just us, sorry Flo.” Chloe gingerly follows her in. “Flo, this is Chloe – Jesse’s new assistant. Chloe, this is Flo – head of PR for countries which use Spanish as an official language. She’s _technically_ undocumented, hence the mafia fears.”

Chloe holds her hand out for Flo to shake, “nice to meet you.” She’s sincere; it _is_ nice to meet someone who isn’t walking around with a stick up their ass.

“Yo!” Flo calls into the apartment, “the new assistant is moving in!”

Within minutes, Chloe is seated on the couch, surrounded by her new roommates. Fat Amy, Cynthia Rose, Ashley, Jessica and Flo. Takeout is spread across the coffee table: three pizzas, a Chinese takeout container, and two salads. They each take turns in introducing themselves, and Chloe now knows her spot on the bathroom rota, and the chores rota, and which day’s dinner she’s responsible for sourcing and making.

“We need to do an initiation!” Amy proclaims, tapping her chin. “Let’s take her to dinner tomorrow, Per Se at 8pm?”

“Oh Chloe,” Jessica whispers, “you’ll love this.”

Whilst living with new people is something Chloe is accustomed to, this is obviously an entirely new arrangement. Though there’s probably worse people for her to be living with, and she at least gets free dinner.

* * *

Beca haphazardly tosses her keys into the bowl in the entrance of her step-sister's apartment. They jingle against the other set already sitting within the ceramic fixture, and Beca then sets about removing her boots and coat- purposefully ignoring the slippers which have been left out for her, _again_.

“I hope you’re okay with Chinese!” She yells into the apartment, before finishing to herself, “doesn’t matter anyway, it’s my turn to choose.”

The bag swings gently forwards and backwards as she continues through to the kitchen, where she unceremoniously drops it on the island.

Her younger step-sister, Emily, looks up from her history textbook. “They’re at the gym.” Her eyes move to the bag of Chinese and back to her work, “Bree will flip shit if there isn’t a salad in there.”

“Not as much as she did when you changed your name.” Beca counters, crossing the room to the fridge and getting out a can of Coca Cola. “Some guy got hit by that stapler.”

Emily sighs, shaking her head and keeping her eyes focused on her homework, “we said we wouldn’t bring that up again.”

“Sorry,” Beca opens the can and takes a sip, trying to hide the smirk playing on the edges of her lips, “how’s school?”

“Another cheerleader offered me fifty bucks if I passed headshots on,” Emily drops her pen, abandoning the Cuban Missile Crisis for a moment. “The usual.”

Beca’s hand goes to her step-sister’s shoulder, offering affection where she’d normally say ‘fuck them’. “You should tell her-”

“Oh my stars!” Emily interjects, pulling a paper bag of spring rolls from the top of the plastic bag. “I want the problem to be sorted, not blown out of proportion.”

“What problem?” Both Beca and Emily look to the entrance of the kitchen, where Stacie walks in, freshly showered and dressed after the trip to the gym. She’s closely followed by Aubrey, who moves to get a glass of water.

“No problem!” Emily smiles widely, “just excited about finishing this essay.” She picks her pen up again and continues scribbling in her notepad.

Beca rolls her eyes. For someone so dead set on getting through life with little help, she was quite annoyed that Emily refused _any_ kind of help. Part of the reason she’d pushed so hard for her own freedom from her father was so she could set an example- nothing should hold you back.

“You got me a salad, right?” Aubrey asks, pulling her hair tie out and shaking golden locks free. “Because that smells like Chinese.”

“Yes, I got you a salad.” Beca responds, taking the greenery encased in plastic out of the bag, “you’re welcome.” She slides it along the island for Emily’s sister to inspect before she takes another swig of her Coca Cola. “Who was that redhead earlier?”

Stacie, picking up cutlery from them all, answers, “Chloe, Jesse’s new assistant.”

“She’s cute.”

Aubrey turns to face the shorter woman, disbelief coating her features. “You’re kidding, right? She’s an _assistant_.”

“And you’re a judgemental bitch.” Beca challenges, “it’s not like it’s an issue.”

Emily picks a spring roll up from the bag, “stapler.” She catches sight of Aubrey in the corner of her eye and promptly stuffs the greasy food into her mouth. “Forget I said anything.”

Stacie sits down beside Emily, opening her own meal, “let’s not worry about it until it happens, alright? We all have jobs to do.”

Beca steals one of the spring rolls from Emily’s bag, “oh, I need to take Emily out of school next week to get down a demo for one of the songs I’m writing for Disney.”

“No way.” Aubrey responds, “Her education comes first, I promised dad that in return for her moving here.”

Beca rolls her eyes, “She doesn’t want to go to school, Bree, haven’t you noticed that?” Her voice rises another decibel, “She’s an eighteen-year-old; she can decide if she wants to be in hell every day or not!” Emily shrinks in her seat, pulling her jacket over her face. “How about you ask her about her day, hmm? Instead of coming home and complaining about some bullshit with very little significance to the outside world, why don’t you ask _your baby sister_ what’s actually going on?”

“Beca, don’t.” Stacie interjects, dead-set on keeping the peace between the step-family, “a week before fashion week is not the time.”

“She’s fucking miserable, Stacie.” Beca yells.

Emily pipes up from outside the argument, “I’m fine Beca, I promise, I’ll come and record in the evening.” She looks down at her work, “I just wanted us to have dinner together, as a _family_.”

Chaos is synonymous with Aubrey and Beca beneath the same roof, and Stacie hates to watch them fall into ruin whenever Emily tries to get her sister and step-sister to get along for once. Between the fashion powerhouse and juxtaposing music producer, there lies little common ground, and it always proves too much.

Beca turns around, making her way back out of the apartment and slamming the door behind her. She leans against the hardwood on the other side, taking a deep breath. Just for once, she wishes that she and Aubrey could get along. Just once.

Her hand fishes out her phone, pressing down speed dial one- she needs to get her mind off things.


	2. Maturity Pays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily has internal conflict, the Design Department is well... the Design Department, Chloe throws herself into social events, and we meet Team Maturity Pays!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Back! Just a reminder that you can find a lot of cool stuff about this fic at breeposens.tumblr.com/ou and a few comments etc would be so gratefully received (I hate to beg).

******Natural Disaster  
** _(Tuesday, September 3rd, 2016)_  
@FashionVanguard

_Did anyone else see DJ and Music Producer Beca Mitchell wandering around New York City last night? Or was I imagining the snarky celebrity beneath my window in yet another fantasy? Preferably one where she makes out with me against the bar of her club - Horizon._

_IDK, I just find it weird how she always seems to leave the same apartment building (UPDATE: where she actually lives opposite her step-sister, awks) and then travel across the city every Monday night… But maybe that's just us (or you can check her Instagram and twitter)._

_In other news – who's ready for NYFW? All my fav fashion people in one city for a week = drama! (Call out the stapler which went through the Marie Claire offices' window last year, I need all the deets!)_

_If the editor in chief Aubrey Posen didn't have a restraining order against me (serves me right for paying a guy to follow her) I'd totes find out!_

_Kisses,  
Fashion Vanguard._

* * *

"Emily," the girl in question hums in response as she continues to push food aside in her search for Stacie's leftover chow mein, "if you don't want to walk to school in this weather you need to hurry up." Emily finds the plastic container and grabs it, closing the fridge behind her. As she goes to pick up a fork from the cutlery draw beneath the window, the true extent of the October downpour hits home. It's raining hard, and unfortunately for her, Aubrey is the only way she's getting to school whilst staying 100% dry.

"Coming!" Emily replies as she slings the food and cutlery into her school bag, "I just need my coat…" She picks up the rucksack by its strap before she makes her way out of the kitchen. Her coat is lying still on the ground exactly where she left it the previous night – a testament to the fact that they're all unable to function after a family argument. Dragging the green material up her arms and over her shoulders, Emily walks into the entryway.

Aubrey looks up from her phone momentarily to inspect her little sister, "ready?"

Emily nods as she readjusts the straps on her bag, attempting to avoid her sister's gaze. Pocketing her phone, Emily's mind begins comparing the juxtaposing manners of her sisters when it comes to getting her out of the apartment and to school on time. Sometimes she feels like a pawn in their constant chess game of 'who's the best sister?' It's exhausting. Perhaps if they both took the time to get to know one another beyond their respective exteriors, they'd be much more civil.

Moving beyond the boundary as Aubrey goes to lock the door gives Emily one moment of solace away from the constant demands from both her sister and her parents. Her step-mom and Beca are probably the only people who don't constantly push her for success; they're happy with her just as she is. As Emily.

The silence in the elevator hangs most awkwardly in the air, though. Emily stands leaning against the side railing, eyes fixated upon the small patch of mud which covers her Vans with a blanket. Occasionally, in the forty-five-second long trip (she's counted), her eyes will rise from her beaten shoes, focussing on her sister as Aubrey taps away on her phone. She's probably texting Stacie, Emily supposes, though she doesn't really care either way. Perhaps this is the reason so many people see herself and Beca as the biological sisters, Emily ponders as she takes in the fact she and Aubrey are so different from one another. She's basically the outcast of the family, a fact she's come to accept. From her dark hair to hatred of academics – and most crucially law – she's the outlier in the perfect family Tobias and Caitlin Posen had planned in their twenties.

Maybe she's the reason they divorced in the first place.

The elevator doors open, signaling their arrival at the lobby. Emily pulls the sides of her jacket up higher, a pathetic attempt to keep her head down and get outside onto the sidewalk.

With a sigh, Emily continues trailing Aubrey by a metre or so. In this weather she can't even say that she'll get in the car halfway down the block to avoid association, rendering her helpless. She walks in with Beca in the evening, and she walks out with Beca in the morning. For all anyone knows she could be Beca's baby sister; an association she'd prefer tenfold to the one she has been biologically ascribed.

Emily ignores the fact an umbrella is being held above her head as she gingerly climbs into the back of the car. Her mind attempts to run away from the fact there isn't an X Ambassadors CD in the CD player. She wants to, just for once, ignore the fact she's Aubrey Posen's little sister. Being constantly asked if she wants to go into the fashion industry or into law or anything other than music is beginning to run her down mentally.

She's the girl who changed her name due to her sister's success; that pisses her off.

Normally, Emily would be legging it down the street with her bag covering her head. She would laugh with Beca when they finally go into the car – soaking wet but without a care. Today she's sitting beside the embodiment of the life she doesn't want, and it's suffocating.

 **Em** [8:03]: _remind me why you can't take me today?_

Replacing her phone in her lap, Emily's head turns to look out of the window. The city is full of people running towards their destination; bags, coats, and umbrellas covering their head as they continue running towards work. Her phone vibrates on her lap.

 **Beca** [8:04]: _going over moana with lin_

Emily replies with a crying emoji.

* * *

Chloe breezes into the design department, "I have food!" She places the carrier bag down on one of the many tables, closely followed by a takeout carton full of Starbucks cups, "And coffee, I figured you'd need it."

Fat Amy, who is unsurprisingly never where she actually needs to be (social media), grabs a donut from the bag, "thanks, Chloe." She grabs a couple more, passing one to Cynthia Rose (also not where she needs to be) and sits down. "How's Jesse?"

"Twenty bucks he's freaking out because it's four days until the show and Jessica still hasn't finished the finale dress." Cynthia Rose proclaims as she continues sketching hair ideas besides each of the dress designs. "Fifty if he's called Beca."

Chloe's cheeks puff outwards as she runs a hand over Jessica's finale dress, "he called Aubrey."

Cynthia Rose groans, "Is he freaking out, though?" Chloe nods, and the black woman cheers, "twenty bucks Amy." When the Australian goes back to doing her 'job' (pointing out where she thinks rhinestones should go), Cynthia Rose looks back to the redhead. "Has he given you your schedule?"

Chloe shakes her head, "No…" Was she running behind on something? All Jesse had mentioned that morning was making sure the design department was getting work done, and they have been, once they turned the karaoke tunes off. "Schedule for what, anyway?"

"Fashion week," Benji supplies as he begins work on make-up samples. He pauses, looking at Chloe, "Sorry, I'm Benji- resident make-up artist and magician." Chloe smiles in return as the man offers his hand, "pleasure to meet you."

Chloe shakes his hand, "nice to meet you too." She looks back towards Cynthia Rose, "I actually get to go?"

Ashley, who's checking the measurements of her own garments on a mannequin, takes a pin from her lip, "to New York, definitely." The designer slings her tape measure over her shoulder. "London, Milan, and Paris? Perhaps, we didn't know the old assistant that well, so we don't know if she came or not."

"Yeah," Amy echoes, "she was weird. Like- weirder than Benji weird."

Benji shakes his head, "Thanks."

"No problem!" Amy flashes a toothy grin at the make-up artist. "Anyway, you coming out later ginger?"

"Depends on what the plan is…" Chloe responds.

Ashley takes a pin out from between her teeth, pressing it between layers of rose lace, "you'll love it."

* * *

"Hey guys," Chloe smiles as she sits down between Jessica and Flo, "sorry I'm late."

The housemates are congregated around a table in Per Se, and Chloe can only imagine how long they've had it booked in advance. As Chloe's getting comfortable, Cynthia Rose pours her a glass of wine.

Jessica stands up for a moment before re-seating herself, and Chloe takes the moment to notice the empty chair beside Fat Amy. As if on cue, a tall teenager arrives beside the table, sliding herself in the spare seat.

"Emily, this is Chloe," Jessica begins, "Chloe, this is Emily Junk- we've basically adopted her." The name rings a bell in the back of Chloe's mind, and her memory flits back to the afternoon, where she had spent her time researching a list of people Jesse had placed on her desk. She's certain an Emily was on that list.

Emily smiles sweetly, "nice to meet you," she elbows Amy when the Australian begins to giggle, "I heard your first task was Marie Claire."

Chloe groans, "I'm still getting over that- she's scary."

"I agree," Emily swallows as Cynthia Rose turns around to laugh, "She's my sister," she throws into the conversation casually.

Chloe pauses. "I'm sorry, what?" The table bursts into laughter, and Emily takes a sip of her Diet Coke, more depressed than ecstatic at the joke.

Jessica's the first to sober, "that never gets old."

Across the restaurant floor, the atmosphere is less than jolly. The conversation has fallen toFashion Week, and two bottles of wine have already been devoured- the entrée hasn't even been ordered yet. Beca hums to herself as the rest of her friends discuss their upcoming fashion week schedules.

"I'm genuinely excited," Jesse begins, "the finale dress is spectacular, right Stacie?" When his partner nods, Jesse looks towards his best friend, "Becs?"

Beca looks up from the phone she's smuggled beneath the table. Her eyes move around the circle, eventually landing on Jesse. She catches the look in his eye. "Oh no, I do not do Fashion Week," she declares. Her life revolves around music- crafting the instrumental and adding poetry; that's what she does. Her life's focus is not – by any means – on expensive gowns.

Luke looks directly at the small DJ, "Becky you need to go- it's Millennia's fifth year at fashion week."

"Ugh," Beca groans in response, "I'm old as fuck, don't remind me."

Jesse chuckles, "that's not even that old."

Beca rolls her eyes towards the ceiling, "I know, Ice Queen is thirty-five." She receives a glare from Aubrey, which she ignores with glee. "Are you two actually getting married at some point?"

"I'm only four years older than you, Beca." Aubrey interjects, hand replacing her wine glass on the table, "And yes, at New Years, so stop being an asshole."

"But that's my job!" Beca shakes her head, "you can't fire me from my own job, Bree." A smirk plays on the edges of her mouth as she picks up her own drink. "Plus, I wasn't even that bad – like – ten years ago."

* * *

_Stacie settles down on the couch in the middle of the coffee shop, placing her canvas bag at her feet. She's due to meet a Vogue intern who'll enlighten her about the upcoming shoot she has scheduled. She's expecting a nerd- a try hard journalism major who needs the magazine's name to get a job and then disappears. Anyone who can bear working beneath Anna Wintour as her assistant deserves a fucking medal, though._

_Luke, her agent at Alpha, had persuaded her to take a chance. Speak to the little people Stacie, he said, they're the most interesting. She wanted to roll her eyes, say that even the little people can be frigid as fuck, thank you, and leave. Evidently, that wasn't what happened._

_The door opens minutes later, reminding Stacie that she's actually twenty-five minutes early. Better to be safe than sorry is her motto, in regards to employment and sex. Though mainly sex. Suddenly, a duo is seated in proximity to her: a blonde with a notepad, and a brunette male with a sketchbook (and spiky hair to match)._

_"Sorry we're late," the blonde begins, "I'm Aubrey Posen, it's a pleasure to meet you." She extends her hand for Stacie to shake – which the model does happily._

_Glancing at the clock on the wall, Stacie shrugs, "You aren't late you're – like – twenty minutes early."_

_"I know, we're late."_

_Stacie snorts quietly, eyes trailing up to Aubrey's face. "Who's the NSYNC wannabe?" Both women's eyes move to the man beside Stacie whose pencil continues drawing the embellishment on the dress on the paper._

_"That's Jesse," Aubrey supplies, "he's interning with DKNY after graduating Parsons." Her gaze lingers on the man for a moment before her attention goes back to Stacie, "Can I get you something to drink?"_

_"A glass of water would be great, thanks," Stacie responds. When Aubrey leaves to order their drinks, she turns to Jesse, "I think that green is too bold for that dress- maybe a muted lilac?"_

_Jesse looks up from the design, "I'm like three years older than you and I graduated from Parsons-"_

_"I'm not trying to undermine you," Stacie insists, eyes moving to the blonde standing beside the counter. "Just trying to get brownie points…"_

_Beside her, Jesse shrugs, "lilac could work, I suppose…"_

_"What could work?" Aubrey asks as she sits back down, placing the tray of drinks down on the small table._

_Stacie, not being one who is quiet about her feelings, grabs the pen from atop Aubrey's notepad. "You calling me, at some point." She scribbles her number down on a scrap piece of paper. "We can do this interview over dinner, it would be more… romantic."_

_Jesse grabs his cup of coffee and lifts it to his lips, smirking to himself. "Someone's forward." He mumbles as Stacie promptly stands up and leaves, a gaping Aubrey left in her wake. When Aubrey looks towards him, he shrugs, "she's known for being outgoing, Bree."_

* * *

"I can't concentrate if you're talking to me!"

Chloe's beginning to think that espionage is a typical attribute of anyone working in this industry. Jessica is currently hiding behind her menu in a bid to read the lips of their boss' friends across the restaurant. It's a strange tactic, but Chloe can see how it's enjoyable. Kind of.

Until Amy began asking stupid questions, that is.

Leaning towards Flo, Chloe whispers, "Is this something normal you guys do?"

Shrugging, Flo whispers back, "We can claim dinner on Millennia's bank account as a work dinner and spy on the most powerful people in their industries- what's not to like?"

Benji perks up from beside Ashley, "did you guys see Vanguard this morning?"

Jessica shakes her head, "it's trash Benji, you know that right?"

Holding his hands up, Benji shrugs, "I'm just mentioning it- they were talking about how full of drama fashion week will be."

Chloe raises an eyebrow as the table descends into chatter about the prolific gossip website which never fails to make Fashion Week interesting. Apparently, anyway. Before too long, the waiter arrives to take orders for main meals, and the topic is dropped, replaced with Amy's choice of club for later in the evening. Chloe chooses to remain relatively quiet- she needs to save her energy for 'Horizon'.


End file.
